


Cream Soda

by keptin



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Academy Era, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:56:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7729420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keptin/pseuds/keptin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Jim, we’re friends,” Bones starts off, which, yeah, obviously. Jim wouldn’t have suggested the idea if they weren’t friends. “We need to think about how, if at all, this could affect our friendship.”<br/>“It won’t,” Jim says quickly, automatically. It won’t if he says it won’t because it won’t. The expression on Bones’ face is inscrutable for almost ten seconds before he finally yawns, nods, and says, “Okay.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cream Soda

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first ever star trek fic tbh and my second-longest fic i do Not have the writing stamina for this thank you [morgan](http://skottish.tumblr.com) for helping me figure out how to write the end of it!  
> rated M for implied sex and some pretty heavy smooching but it never shows them actually banging.  
> also gaila is nb Because I Said So,

They’re both sitting on their respective beds, Bones looking like a perfectly normal guy sitting crosslegged and holding a half-empty bottle of cream soda (Jim’s idea-- the RA nearly freaked out when they came in holding two six-packs each of what looked a lot like beer) and Jim sprawled out on his back, one leg bent and the other hanging off the side of his bed. It’s just a normal Saturday night at Starfleet Academy; there isn’t really much of a drinking scene in the transfer and continuing students’ dorm, so it’s usually pretty mellow during the weekend. Jim is taking a break from studying, and Bones is taking a break from going over his lab prep, though it doesn’t really look like either of them plan to go back to what they were doing until tomorrow. Jim sighs, propping himself up to take a swig of his soda, his breath playing a low note with the mouth of the bottle.

“Hey,” he says, raising an eyebrow slowly and staring straight down the bottle, not looking at Bones. “So… Gaila and I didn’t really work out.”

“Yeah?”

That’s something Bones knows about. That’s something Bones knows about in that Jim’s already told him, and also he knows about failed relationships in general. Jim realizes it sounds like a low blow, and quickly amends his original statement.

“I mean, we’re cool, though. We’re friends. We knew going into it that it was just a…” He waves his free hand dismissively. “... thing like that. No damage done.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jim waves his hand again and shakes his head. “No, no, it’s fine. I mean, yeah, thanks, but it’s fine. We’re good.”

Bones’ eyebrows twitch together, a thin line appearing across the middle of his forehead. If he was calling Jim’s bluff, which he isn’t, because Jim isn’t bluffing, he’d have raised an eyebrow in an expression he’s used many times on many people, but the furrowed brow means he’s genuinely concerned. And he’s a doctor, he’s allowed to be concerned, concern is kind of his business. But there’s nothing to be concerned about.

“You sure you’re good?” he asks, his voice uncharacteristically-- or not, because Bones is a big softie at heart-- gentle. “I know a little bit about relationships, and I know that no matter how amicably you break up, there’s gonna be a little fallout.”

“Well, yeah, but we weren’t really, you know. Together-together,” Jim explains. “Like, we just sort of met up when we felt like it and…” What the hell, he wasn’t under any illusion that Bones didn’t know exactly what he and Gaila had been doing together. “... banged. Bung. Bong?”

“You’re rambling.”

“Yeah. Right. Sorry. Hey, do you think if you drink a little more of your soda we could duet ‘Time After Time’?”

Bones sighs patiently. “Jim, what were you trying to say?”

Jim’s rambling. Jim rambles when he’s nervous, and he changes the subject to try to distract whoever he’s talking to in order to get them to let go the topic at hand. And he only does that when there’s something he wants to say or ask or ask permission, but he doesn’t want to deal with the person he’s talking to getting angry or upset or closing off. Dragging a hand through his hair, Jim tries to focus on the little dots on the ceiling.

“And so anyway, I was thinking… you haven’t been out in a long time,” he says, pitching his idea slowly, easing Bones into it. “And I was thinking you don’t have to date, per se. Maybe it’d do you some good to just… have an outlet. You know?”

“An outlet?” Bones repeats, his eyes narrowing like he thinks Jim is going to suggest something really out there, but Jim just nods measuredly, still not making eye contact.

“Yeah. Someone you can get together with when you feel like it, do your thing, and then go back to life as usual,” he explains. “You don’t have to worry about keeping up a relationship, you know?” He wants to make absolutely clear that he isn’t suggesting that he and Bones start dating... even though maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

As nervous as Jim is, Bones seems to actually consider it.

“Okay,” he says after a minute or so. “So let’s say I agree.” Which it sounds like he does, because he’s actually humoring this idea instead of shooting it out of the sky right off the bat. “You have a person in mind, or do I have to do my hookup matchmaking all by myself?”

Jim shifts uncomfortably, looking up at a spot over Bones’ right shoulder before quickly turning his gaze down to his bottle again and keeping it there. There goes one of Bones’ eyebrows, beginning to arch. Shit, he’ll never go for this.

“... Me.”

The word is out of Jim’s mouth before he can think better of it; he doesn’t let himself think better of it, because then he’s screwed, he’ll never breach the subject again. Knowing that Bones’ brain is probably working double-time to work itself around that, Jim leaps to justify himself.

“I mean, we’re best friends,” he points out. “We know each other. You wouldn’t have to find someone you don’t know and try to work out something long-term with someone you’re starting off as strangers with.”

Bones seems to consider that point; encouraged, Jim continues.

“We get along, and we know each other’s schedules, so you wouldn’t end up calling me when I’m in the middle of class and can’t do anything for you. Or maybe you would, I dunno what you’re into.”

“Hey, hey.”

Jim looks up as Bones eases himself off the bed, approaching him like he’s a spooked animal or a toddler getting their first vaccination. In his worn t-shirt and grey sweatpants with a ketchup stain just above his right knee he looks soft, not nearly as stern as he does in his cadet reds, and Jim feels relieved they’re having this conversation on a Saturday night. He finally meets Bones’ eyes to find a gentle expression on his face.

“Jim, I’m not mad at you,” he says first, and Jim feels somewhat reassured but still mostly not. Bones must feel the tension in his shoulder as he puts a warm hand on it, because he sighs quietly. “I’m not,” he says again, “I promise, but before I say yea or nay to your idea I think we need to talk about some things.”

“Yeah?” asks Jim, sitting up straighter. Bones drags a hand back through his mussed hair.

“Yeah,” he replies. “Can you…?” He gestures to Jim’s legs, and Jim quickly sits up, mimicking Bones’ earlier sitting position.

Sighing, Bones rubs his left eye with the heel of his hand. It’s getting late, and they’re both tired, but Jim’s opened this book and neither of them is going to bed until they’ve reached the end. “Jim, we’re friends,” he starts off, which, yeah, obviously. Jim wouldn’t have suggested the idea if they weren’t friends. “We need to think about how, if at all, this could affect our friendship.”

“It won’t,” Jim says quickly, automatically. It won’t if he says it won’t because it won’t. The expression on Bones’ face is inscrutable for almost ten seconds before he finally yawns, nods, and says, “Okay.”

 

A week into the arrangement, Jim hasn’t gotten any messages from Bones saying he needs so much as a quick blowjob between classes. It’s a little bit worrying, but he isn’t going to agonize too much about it, because he suggested it kind of suddenly and he gets it if Bones is still getting used to the concept of being able to ask his friend whenever he needs some good, no-strings-attached sex. He had only offered because he was a good friend who didn’t want his best friend to feel lonely, especially when Jim was out frequently seeing Gaila or maybe sometimes going to a bar or a club and picking up someone. But he’d never take them back to the dorms, that would be weird and kind of mean to Bones and whoever lived on the other side of the wall on Jim’s side of the room.

Jim sighs, pushing his glasses up as he scrubs roughly at his eyes. There are posters in the library reminding people to take frequent breaks from their PADDs, but Jim’s on an accelerated track (well, not an official advanced program or anything, he’s just trying to graduate in three years so he can make good on his promise to Pike) and that means he doesn’t have much time during the week to take the suggested 15-minute breaks. Reading glasses work fine, thank you very much, and if his depth perception is all funny by the time he finishes, well… whatever. Right now, he’s halfway through a pre-lab reading and his eyes are starting to blend colors together, so maybe it’s time to put it away for the night and do something else. That “something” makes itself known as the lock beeps and Bones appears in the doorway.

“Hey,” Jim greets him, swiveling in his desk chair to face him. Bones looks tired, the beginnings of purple bags under his eyes and his hair messed up on one side like he’s had his hand in it, but there’s also something else. His eyes are focused on something beyond where he’s staring, like he’s been thinking about something for a very long time. He looks at Jim, but doesn’t really seem to see him.

“Um,” Jim says.

Bones’ eyes focus, and now it seems less like he’s looking straight through Jim and more like he’s in the room, present and alert. “Yeah,” he says by way of a reply, still looking distracted. Closes the door, slowly sets his bag down by his desk. Moves his hand. When he turns, Jim realizes he’s got one hand on his dick, palming it over his pants.

“Um?” Jim says again, which seems to snap Bones out of it. He looks down, his cheeks and the tops of his ears flushing as he pulls his hand away and back to his side like he had burned himself, but the… it’s undeniable. Jim tucks one leg under himself on his chair, leaning back. “You know, you can… cash in on the offer,” he suggests, trying to sound nonchalant. “I mean, it’s cool if you don’t want to. And it’s cool if you do. I promise either way I won’t be weird about it, I don’t want to make you feel uncomf-”

In less than a second, Bones has his hand on the back of Jim’s head and their lips pressed firmly together, Jim’s glasses slipping up the bridge of his nose. There isn’t time for Jim to react before Bones pulls away, just enough so that they can look each other in the eye.

“Jim,” he tells him gently, “you’re rambling again.”

 

All in all, it’s both exactly and nothing like Jim had thought it would be. Clothes come off, Bones’ fingertips nudging under the hem of Jim’s shirt, Jim pushing insistently at Bones’ jacket and getting it stuck on Bones’ broad shoulders before Bones finally pulls back to remove it completely. There’s no discussion about whose bed to use, since Jim’s is covered in work and clothes that are too clean to get washed but not clean enough to go in the dresser; a bit of stumbling later, messily trying to move while still discarding each other’s clothes, and they manage to maneuver themselves to Bones’ bed. Jim kind of rolls onto it, and then Bones is there, too, leaning over him, adjusting Jim’s legs and kneeling between them as he mashes their lips sloppily together. It’s fantastic. It’s terrifying.

The actual… business part of it is over faster than Jim would have wanted, even though Bones takes his time with him-- “with” meaning something more like “at the same time as” or “in conjunction with,” because he’s sure that no matter who he was, Bones would have treated him the same. Bones is gentle, unhurried but still precise and punctual. He kisses Jim, but he could have been kissing anybody. Jim knows not to make anything out of this that it isn’t, or, even worse, get his hopes up. Because he does have hopes that can be gotten up.

Bones looked pretty exhausted from class and from his volunteer hours at the clinic, and when they finish, he yawns, finds his boxer briefs where they had landed on the floor, and pulls them on before getting back into his bed and rolling over to face the wall. Jim makes to get into his own bed, but a queasy feeling churns in his stomach. Instead, he gets his clothes back on while listening to Bones start to snore softly, then grabs his PADD and leaves. He ends up falling asleep in the library, feeling a lot more hesitant about this idea than he had earlier.

 

Class is uneventful. He wakes up two hours earlier than he normally would, a crick in his neck from slumping over a table and sleeping there for four hours, still in his clothes from yesterday. He knows he should go back to the dorm to change into his uniform, but Bones doesn’t have class until 10 today and he’s not in the mood to risk running into him so soon after last night. If he gets dress coded for a faded t-shirt and jeans with a huge hole over the right knee, well, it’s not the worst thing he’s ever done. His breath smells awful, though, he finds out after he cups a hand in front of his mouth and breathes hot air into it. His toiletry bag is in the dorm, but flavored syrup does an okay job of masking bad breath if there’s enough of it.

Standing up and taking a moment to stretch-- the series of little cracking sounds all the way up his spine is downright blissful-- Jim tucks his PADD under his arm and heads to the cafeteria. At least he’s not the only one out of uniform there, considering how early it is and how many cadets like to take walks or work out before taking their morning shower. He orders a large coffee that consists of roughly 16 ounces of espresso and several credits worth of caramel syrup and finds a table away from the windows that are streaming in morning sun, sipping at his coffee and feeling his face immediately screw up in a grimace. Too much… everything. Maybe he should have ordered a smaller size, or put some milk in it.

Five minutes later, there’s a green face across the table from him.

“Oh, Jim, you don’t look too well,” says Gaila, pulling their hair over one shoulder and watching him in concern. And Jim hadn’t been lying to Bones about him and Gaila being okay; he gives a little wave and a tight smile.

“I’m-” A yawn interrupts him- “fine, Gaila, thanks,” he replies, and Gaila seems to accept that-- or accepts that, by Jim’s estimate, he’s fine-- but tilts their head to the side curiously. Thankfully, they seem to get that it’s not really something he feels like talking about. Not right now, at least.

They start up a conversation about their Probability Mechanics homework, which they’ve both finished a week early (because it’s one of the classes that just clicks for Jim and Gaila thinks it’s fun), Gaila buys a jelly donut and offers to split it with him, but donuts aren’t really his thing and he declines. Plus he’s still got half a cup left of his disgusting espresso-flavoring concoction, and he plans to finish that up and see what happens first, getting sick or going to class.

Then Gaila’s eyes light up and they wave at someone over Jim’s shoulder who he can’t see. They continue to smile as Uhura-- has she ever gotten around to mentioning her first name?-- comes over to the table, her long hair falling in a curtain as she puts a hand on Gaila’s shoulder and bends to give them a kiss. She’s in a rather better mood than the last time Jim saw her.

“Early breakfast?” she asks, raising an eyebrow and glancing pointedly at Jim’s coffee. Jim snorts, shakes his head, then pinches his nose and chugs a good few ounces of it. It tastes like death and makes his face screw up as he tries to deal with the bitterness on top of the sickly sweetness from the flavored syrup. Caramel had not been the way to go. Uhura pulls a face, and Gaila giggles, looking up at her and then stealing another short kiss.

“So, what’s new and exciting with you two?” Jim asks, looking between the two of them. Gaila’s always been… smoochy, but never this much, and never on the lips with friends. And they had always been very close to Uhura, enough so that they were comfortable undressing around each other. He thought he remembered Gaila describing the color of Uhura’s eyes to him one time and getting really flowery with it. And from what he knew from conversations, Uhura was fiercely protective of them, too, in a way that went beyond even her protectiveness over her friends (because, as much as he knew she’d hate to admit it, she did consider him a friend.)

“A recent development,” Gaila replies with a grin, looping an arm around Uhura’s waist. She smiles at them again, putting an arm around their shoulders and stepping closer to them.

“Very recent,” she agrees, and Jim can’t help but smile at that. Breaking up with Gaila, even if that isn’t exactly the right term-- what do you call it when you break up with someone you didn’t date?-- was the right move. He raises his cup in a mock-toast.

“Congratulations!” he tells them, and Gaila just beams while Uhura looks possibly happier than he’s ever seen her look. Then he takes a gulp of his coffee again and tries not to look like he’s dying, which makes Uhura snort.

“How are things?” she asks, ignoring his face. “Considering you’re in the cafeteria at 6:44 AM out of uniform and smelling like armpit.”

“I don’t appreciate that.”

“Well, I took a shower today.”

Jim opens his mouth to reply, but he barely gets a word out when Gaila sniffs casually and says, “He’s had sex recently.” Which isn’t the way he would have put it, but it’s true, so he closes his mouth and blinks a couple of times. Uhura’s head whips around so she can stare at him with wide eyes.

“With Leo?”

“Oh my god, why can’t you just assume this one time, like all the other times, that I went to a bar and picked up someone?”

“Because you clearly didn’t,” Uhura points out, shrugging. “You’re in yesterday’s clothes, but they’re not anything you’d wear when you want to pick up people, you don’t smell like a liquor cabinet, and you obviously don’t have a hangover if you’re here at almost 7 in the morning.”

All of that is very true, and Jim sometimes knows when to admit defeat.

“Whatever, okay, Bones and I fucked, are you happy?”

“Very happy!” Gaila chirps, nodding their head so fast it makes their red hair bounce. But their face falls when Jim squints and tilts his head. “I’m… missing something…?”

Well, yeah, apparently they are? And so is Jim, because he definitely wasn’t expecting his friends to be emotionally invested in his sex life, but okay, he’ll bite.

“Okay, why are you so happy about me and Bones doing it?” he asks, looking between the two of them.

“I just thought since we ended our arrangement…” Gaila begins, looking apologetic as they gesture between themself and Jim, then glance up at Uhura. “Since we ended our arrangement so that I could attempt to start a relationship, I thought you would do the same.”

Jim glances up at Uhura too, because she’s awfully quiet, and he can see her jaw working. “What, with Bones?” he asks incredulously.

“I thought we were planning to both pursue our own relationships!” Gaila stresses. “And since you love Leo-”

“I don’t _love_ Bones-”

“-I assumed that the fact you two had sex last night meant that your relationship had progressed!”

Jim just sits there, stunned, staring straight ahead while Gaila’s hands are paused in the middle of a gesture, looking helpless. He sighs, drags a hand down over his face. Nobody says anything for a long moment.

“I think,” Uhura says measuredly, breaking the tense silence, “you and Leo need to sit down and talk to each other, completely honestly. And I think you two shouldn’t have sex with each other again until you’ve discussed things.”

It’s good advice, Jim admits to himself, but the thought of talking to Bones-- admitting he’s had a crush ever since the shuttle ride that only grew since then, leaving him now ridiculously in love with his best friend, is something he’d rather never ever do ever. He doesn’t do well with rejection, and losing the first and best friend he’s had since coming here isn’t a fun thought.

Then Uhura has to go to Xenolinguistics and Gaila has to go to Astrophysics and Jim has to sit alone in the cafeteria and try to figure out how he’s ever going to face his best friend again, knowing without a doubt now that he’s in love with him.

 

The sex was great. When Bones messages him after his piloting course a few days later asking if he’s up for a quick one before he heads off to clinic to put in his volunteer hours, Jim doesn’t hesitate to reply with an enthusiastic “hella”. Then two seconds later he tips his head back, eyes skyward, and groans, wanting to throttle himself. He’s like the monkey who lifted the rock,  saw a snake, fainted, and then woke up later only to lift the rock again and see the same snake and faint. What does he think will be different this time? Nothing, but when Bones had messaged to see if he’d be cool with a quick fuck in the late afternoon, he didn’t even think before agreeing.

Truthfully, it won’t be bad if it’s exactly like last time. Bones is good, and Jim suspects it’s something to do with his practiced fingers and steady hands, but he also knows a lot of it is because this is what’s filled the filthier of his daydreams for months. Over a year now, probably. He convinces himself that it’s nothing; after all, he had that whole arrangement with Gaila, and he hadn’t been in love with them or anything. They were friends, they both liked sex, and it was easier to have an ongoing thing with someone you knew than going out and picking up someone new every time, maybe one repeat performance at the most. And then when Gaila had decided to finally, _finally_ ask Uhura out, they figured it was best to stop so that Gaila could honor their new relationship.

Apparently Gaila had been under the assumption that while they started a relationship with Uhura, Jim was going to do something similar with Bones. Which was ridiculous, because Gaila had been head over heels for Uhura, and it was pretty obvious that she felt the same, as collected as she normally is. Whereas Jim is definitely not in love with Bones. He just…

He’s definitely in love with Bones.

Oh, god. He leans against a wall, _thunk_ ing his forehead soundly against it and mentally berating himself. Why did he ever think it was a good idea to get a huge fucking crush on the best friend he’d ever had? Obviously he hadn’t been thinking. Jim Kirk might be a risk taker, but the stakes in this situation are too high even for him; if he lets this slip, he could lose his best friend. He could lose Bones. And Bones is as important to him as… well, as his own bones. Scaring him off, or making him so uncomfortable around him that their friendship dissolves and they never talk again, is absolutely 100% out of the question.

Picking at a scab on his hand, Jim shoulders his bag again and turns around in the hallway, heading to the library now.

 

_Shit, I take it back, I just remembered I’ve got a midterm I’ve gotta study for :( Sorry dude_

 

Hopefully that sounds convincing enough, seeing as he’s never really worried much about midterms. But at least it isn’t a complete lie-- he does have a midterm at the end of the week. He spent the previous night reviewing his notes, though, and he knows Bones knows, because they were both in the room at the time. Bones replies quickly, though, and seems pretty chill about it.

 

_‘S okay, I was just wondering. Don’t stay too late, if your body’s telling you you’re tired then you’re tired. Need me to bring you anything?_

 

_Nah, it’s fine, go do your doctor thing!_

 

He can’t help but smile-- Bones is one of the few people he’s met who look out for him like this, and it gives him warm fuzzies. And then his smile falls and he sighs in exasperation. Fuck, he’s screwed, and he knows that by turning down Bones’ offer he’s only prolonging the inevitable, but he needs the time to regroup and think about stuff, even if it’s only a few hours. A few hours should do him fine, right? Lots of people have sorted out their feelings for their best friends in a few hours, probably.

“Hey, Jim!”

Jim looks up as if an alarm’s just gone off, almost running into a bench as he looks up at Bones. “Oh, hey,” he says, briefly entertaining the thought that maybe Bones is secretly half-Betazoid or something and he already knows how Jim feels about him, perhaps even earlier than Jim knew, and this whole time he’s just been subversively mocking him. But Bones gives a little smile and a wave as he crosses the path to head up to the clinic, and Jim waves back belatedly before continuing to the library. Bones is either the nicest empath/mind reader in the universe, or he just doesn’t know. That thought placates Jim somewhat, and he climbs the single flight of stairs to the second floor of the library, where people are allowed to talk at a conversational level. He finds a table, sets his stuff down, and rests his head on his arms, closing his eyes and wondering a lot of things. When did this start? If it was a long time ago, which it probably was, if how close they are with each other is any indication, why is he only realizing this now? Most importantly, what does he do about it?

Jim has to be pragmatic about this, lend his discerning mind to it rather than try to get through it with just sheer force of his personality and his can-do attitude. Okay, what’s the worst that can happen if he just comes clean and tells Bones everything? Bones would probably reject him, maybe he’d be disgusted, but either way, he’d lose his best friend. But the best case scenario was that Bones might feel the same. He might also have a big throbbing crush on Jim and if he said something then everything would be out in the open and then maybe they would date, maybe they…

Wouldn’t that be something, though.

It’s safer not to say anything, Jim rationalized (which he didn’t really do much). If he doesn’t say anything, nothing can come of what might already be there, but it means things can keep going along like normal. He doesn’t lose Bones or make him hate him. Yeah, he keeps pining over his roommate, but what’s worse, that or knowing your best friend hates your guts? Neither one is ideal, but one is a million times worse than the other.

Jim gets a coffee and spends the afternoon studying. There’s not really anything he needs to study _for,_ but it gives him something to do, and it can’t hurt to get a little bit ahead. It takes his mind off the more pressing matter at hand for some hours, until he looks up and the sky is going purple and black. It’s time to pack it in and go back to the dorm, he decides with some degree of trepidation, yawning and checking his watch. Bones is probably still at the clinic, but if he isn’t, Jim’ll just lie and say he’s tired and then go to sleep early. He heads back to the dorm, taking the lift to his floor; his feet drag as he walks down the long hall to the room he shares with Bones-- isn’t that a romantic way to put it-- and he can’t help but wonder what could go wrong if he says something. Just… comes right out with it, no matter how Bones might or might not react.

But when he keys in his code and the door slides open to let him enter, the room is empty, and all his determination and confidence just seem to slip away from him as easily as the door had opened. Jim’s shoulders sag not like they’ve been relieved of a heavy weight, but like someone’s just pulled a blanket off his back.

“Fuck,” he hisses, mostly at himself, letting his bag slip off his shoulder and hit the floor next to his desk. He’s exhausted, still in his clothes from the day before, he hasn’t showered, and he’s only gotten a couple hours of sleep, if even that much. His heart feels like it’s caught in the dip between his collarbones, thrumming there like a piston, and his skin is buzzing with nervous energy. Anxiety. How did Gaila do it, he wonders. Were they nervous? He can’t imagine them being anything other than determined and optimistic, but then again, maybe they can’t imagine him as anything but that, either.

Grabbing a fresh undershirt and a pair of boxers, Jim heads to the bathroom to shower. Lukewarm water against his skin makes him feel somewhat nauseous, but he washes his hair and puts on his sleeping clothes and then shuffles back to the room barefoot. When he gets there, Bones is back, emptying his bag and setting his PADD on his desk. He turns when Jim comes in, a smile ready on his lips that fades into a concerned little frown when he sees how drawn Jim looks.

“You look like a dunked cat,” he observes, but pauses in his configuration of his desk, so Jim knows he’s not pointing it out to be a jerk. “Are you sleeping alright? How many meals did you have today?”

Jim just sighs, drags a hand through his wet hair, and climbs into bed, not minding the clothes and miscellany he’s thrown on top. “I’m tired,” he says simply, which isn’t wrong, but it’s not why he’s going to bed now. To reassure Bones that he’s not mad at him, Jim offers a tight smile. “Talk to you in the morning, okay?”

“Yeah,” Bones says with a nod, echoing the same small smile. “Alright, kid. Get some sleep.”

The _it looks like you need it_ goes unsaid, but Jim still hears it loud and clear in the way Bones purses his lips. As frustrating as it might be to be mother-henned any time he sneezes, it feels good to be cared about. He never has to go wondering about whether or not Bones is just putting up with him, no matter how much Bones gripes.

“‘Night,” Jim mumbles, yawning and closing his eyes as he curls up under his covers. Almost immediately, he’s dozing, his consciousness starting to float away from him; he must really be tired. But no matter how half-asleep he is, he still feels a light pressure against his forehead, a gentle press and warm breath.

But maybe the “Sweet dreams, Jim,” is just his imagination.

 

Time passes.

 

Two weeks go by as usual, save for the fact that where Jim had been pretty gone over his friend without noticing it, now he’s actively pining. He has to fight the urge to clutch at his chest whenever Bones smiles, and when he’s grumpy about something that happened at the clinic that day, Jim wants to kiss his frown until it disappears. Bones hasn’t asked about having sex since that first time, and Jim is grateful, because that doesn’t complicate things like it had, but he’s also somewhat disappointed. That night, he had gotten to kiss Bones and feel him in him, and now that memory is just… there, stuck in his mind like it’s taunting him. _This hour and a half is all you’ll get with him like that, this is how you spent it, and it’ll never happen again._

The thing is, he doesn’t want just that. He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted just that, and maybe that’s why he’s sought _just that_ with other people. The truth is, he’d agree to going on a date with Bones, or just spending a night sitting on one of their beds watching old movies on a PADD with him, or walking around campus hand-in-hand. The thing is, he’s been in love with Bones for longer than he’s known he’s been in love with him, and now it’s like all of that is a tree root being ripped out of the ground and upturning pavement as it goes.

It’s tiring.

Most days he tries to act normal, like he hasn’t had a huge revelation about his feelings towards his best friend that’s making him question every single one of their interactions-- is he coming on too strong, is he being a creep, is this friendliness or is he some kind of pervert who gets close to people for the sake of having sex with them later, how can he be sure he doesn’t actually have ulterior motives, why is he subjecting Bones to this-- but some days it’s easier just to avoid Bones as much as he possibly can. He’s slept in the library a couple of times; it’s not so bad once you get used to it, and now he can ignore the stiffness in his neck like a pro. Sometimes, removing himself from the situation is better than pretending everything is totally fine. But when he comes back the next day he sees the downturn of the corners of Bones’ mouth and the crease between his eyebrows and is almost tempted to spill. Almost. As much as he hates to make the choice, he’d take worried Bones over a Bones who can’t even stand to look at him.

The thing is, with his relationship with Bones so strained that their interactions seem forced (on Jim’s part, at least, though he really hopes Bones isn’t picking up on that) and on some days nonexistent, Jim feels isolated. There are people all over the place, but he barely talks to anyone now because if he’s hardly talking to Bones, it feels weird to start talking even more to the other people he knows. Like he’s replacing him or something. And there’s nothing he wants less in the world, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t feel like that’s what that would mean.

Then there’s the matter of what happened that night he came back after sleeping in the library, when he was so exhausted that he just showered and got into bed and fell asleep before midnight.Maybe he was dreaming when he felt the press of lips against his forehead, but maybe he wasn’t, and he dares to let that thought give him hope. It’s such an intimate gesture that Jim’s sure Bones would have done it before that night if it had been just a friend thing, but it happened the night after the night they had had sex for the first time. Not that there have been any other times. And not that there’ll necessarily be any other times, though wouldn’t Jim love that.

He can’t help revisiting that moment when his mind wanders. He relives the feeling of Bones’ lips on his forehead, even if it turns out he had just imagined it. He tunes out the world around him to focus on remembering it, the little puff of air against his skin and the quiet “Sweet dreams, Jim” in that Georgia drawl. If that and the one night of really good sex were the extent of what Jim ever got, he’d take them and run.

Days go by, each one feeling like one tick of the second hand on an analog clock. Jim comes back from class, setting his bag on his desk and stretching his arms high above his head, his back giving a few sound _crack_ s as he yawns. Bones looks up from his reading, offering a brief smile, and Jim smoothes his shirt and waves back.

“You’re back early,” Bones comments. “The sun’s only just setting. No library today?”

“Not up for studying,” Jim admits, waving a hand dismissively. “Class was boring, I feel like my brain’s leaking out my ears.”

That makes Bones snort, and he shuts off his PADD, setting it aside. “Well, we can’t all be perfect,” he says, a sardonic twist to his tone, and Jim’s not sure what to make of that. But Bones looks up again, raising his eyebrows and opening his mouth in a way that usually means he’s going to change the subject.

“You must be hungry,” he says. “Want to go get dinner? I was thinking of heading down to the cafeteria.”

A tight feeling sinks down Jim’s throat and settles in his chest. He’s hungry, and getting dinner with Bones is nice-- he likes talking with him and unwinding after a long day and shooting the end of the paper straw wrappers in Bones’ face and watching his nose wrinkle-- but he really, really isn’t up for it right now. It’s just going to make him fall even more in love with him and as nice as it might be to look at your best friend and feel your heart seem to light up and swell, it also aches to know Bones is never going to like him the same way, might never like him, at all, period, if he says anything about it. How can he? He’s already been married and divorced. Hell, he has a kid. He’s not going to be even remotely interested in a delinquent from Iowa with a history of misdemeanors and sleeping around.

It’s only then that Jim blinks and realizes he’s been staring straight at Bones’ lips for the past few seconds, and that Bones is looking increasingly worried.

“Uh… no, I’m fine.” Jim flashes a short-lived smile he hopes looks natural enough. “Thanks for offering, though.”

Bones doesn’t look quite convinced, but the furrow in his brow and the way he worries at the inside of his cheek tells Jim he’s trying to figure out if he needs to press or if it’s safe to drop the matter. Trust a doctor to triage a conversation.

“... Alright,” Bones says finally, “if you’re sure.”

Thank god. Jim forces another smile.

“Yeah, I think I’m just gonna, you know.” Another smile, because you can never smile enough when you’re trying to convince someone that everything’s totally normal, as he does another stretch. His shirt lifts, a sliver of his stomach peeking out under the hem, and he’s definitely imagining the way Bones’ eyes dart to that spot.

“... Go to bed,” Jim finishes belatedly. Bones’ eyes seem to clear, and he frowns deeply, and Jim realizes that, no, maybe he’s not just gonna, you know, go to bed. Not if Bones has anything to say about it, which he apparently does.

“No, you’re coming down with me to get some dinner.” There’s no room for argument; Bones crosses his arms in front of his chest and gives Jim his best I-went-to-medical-school raised eyebrow, and Jim opens his mouth to protest but doesn’t even get a full word out before Bones continues. “No. I know you’ve been itching to get away from me for weeks but I know you’ve skipped meals to avoid me, and we’re gonna have a good talk about that, but first we’re gonna go down to the cafeteria and get some food in you.”

Despite wanting to tell Bones that that isn’t true, Jim knows Bones is right. Sometimes he had suggested getting lunch or dinner together, and sometimes Jim had taken him up on that offer, but most times he had lied and said he’d eaten earlier, or said he wasn’t hungry. It isn’t the first time he’d skipped meals, and it probably won’t be the last, but something gnaws at his stomach when he does it, and he knows it isn’t hunger.

Jim closes his mouth, blinks a few times, and then sighs, shifting his gaze towards the floor so he doesn’t have to look at Bones’ face-- still stern, but with a softness in the corners of his mouth that means he really is concerned about his friend’s wellbeing.

“Yeah,” Jim says at last, acquiescing. And that seems to be enough for Bones, for now, because he relaxes, his arms falling back to his sides, and he offers Jim a smile. It’s enough to make Jim feel like this whole thing might not blow up in his face-- or that it definitely will, but he’s determined to have a nice time and talk and laugh and tell bad jokes and convince himself for an hour that things are and always have been perfectly normal between them.

He gets his jacket, because it’s San Francisco and the wind whips between the tall buildings like it’s achieved warp, and follows Bones out the door. By the time they arrive at the cafeteria, they’re walking side by side, and Bones is telling Jim about some person who had brought a potted plant with them to the clinic and tried to convince Bones to draw their blood so they could see what would happen if they fed it to the plant.

“Sounds like something you would pull,” Bones mutters, shaking his head. Jim just grins and asks if he knew the student’s name, but Bones quickly tells him that doctor-patient confidentiality prevents him from giving out names willy-nilly.

“Furthermore, I can’t in good confidence let you two ever meet,” he adds. “I’m pretty sure it violates the ‘do no harm’ part of my Hippocratic oath.”

Jim laughs, and a small smile tugs at Bones’ lips, and Jim is encouraged enough to take that as a sign that things are okay between them, even as concerned as Bones was earlier (and probably still was, knowing him). But they get their food and find a table, just the two of them, and spend an hour and twenty minutes sitting there, eating, talking, making a house out of some Andorian vegetable that looks like baby carrots (Jim), and wondering aloud when they started letting 10-year-olds into Starfleet (Bones).

The walk back to the dorm is more subdued, with the knowledge that once they get back to their room, they'll finally have a discussion about this thing between them. Jim is under no illusions that Bones hasn't noticed that there's something funny going on, and he can’t think of any good or believable excuses, so he has a few minutes to come to terms with the fact that he's going to tell Bones everything. Everything. That he’s apparently had a monstrous crush on him, probably ever since he’d sat down next to him on that shuttle a year ago, that he’d only noticed it after Gaila had pointed it out to him but after they had it made so much sense, that he’s felt weird ever since he and Bones had had sex a few weeks ago and he hadn’t wanted to confront it for fear of not only Bones’ rejection, but losing his friendship as well. That, all in all, he is in love with the country doctor with nothing left but his bones. Bones must notice the change, because he steps closer to Jim, their arms brushing, but Jim keeps his hand at his side so it doesn’t touch Bones’ at all.

They get back to their room, Jim shucking his jacket and tossing it onto his bed, Bones going right to his desk and pulling his chair out so he can sit and face Jim. Jim almost goes to sit on his bed, but it feels too much like the night when they were both sitting on their beds drinking cream soda and not thinking about the weird rift Jim inadvertently split open between them with his suggestion. Look where that had gotten them-- thanks a billion, Past-Jim.

“So…” Jim says, trailing off. He pulls his own desk chair out, straddling it and sitting to face Bones so they can have this discussion and get it all over with, no matter what that'll mean for them. Jim knows what he wants, but despite all his bravado, he can be realistic when it matters; Bones will probably file a room change request and be out by the same time next week. But Bones nods, looking almost distracted, opening his mouth and then closing it again like he’s changed his mind.

“I owe you an apology,” he says.

Which is about the weirdest thing he could have said. No, there are weirder things. But still, Jim hadn’t expected it.

“What?” he asks, his eyebrows scrunching up together. “What do you have to apologize for? I was-”

“Well, Jim, you’re distant even though you pretend not to be, you’re obviously uncomfortable around me to the point where you spend entire nights in the library…” Bones drags a hand through his hair, sighing in frustration, though Jim has a funny feeling it’s only partially directed at him. “If there’s anything I’ve done to make you feel uncomfortable or upset or angry, you know, you can tell me. And if you can’t tell me as friends, you can tell me as your doctor.”

The obvious distress in Bones’ voice, written in the lines in his forehead, makes Jim want to lean forward until they’re kissing. He wants to rub the lines away with the pad of his thumb. But Bones doesn’t know that.

“L’ve you,” Jim mumbles, head down, foot scuffing at the weird blue carpeting.

“What? Jim, I can’t-”

“Love you.”

Jim lifts his head, but only so that he can look off at the wall above his messy bed. When he does, he catches a split-second glimpse of Bones’ face, and he can’t read it. He’s never seen this expression before; mouth ajar, like he wants to say something but doesn’t know what, eyes relaxed but unblinking, eyebrows just slightly raised. Jim takes it as a cue to go on.

“I didn’t know, for a while,” he explains, leg still swinging. “I only realized after talking about it with Gaila the day after we…”

He gestures vaguely between himself and Bones, trailing off. There’s really no point in going on, not if Bones is just going to leave, one way or another. For a second, it looks like he’s going to stand up and do just that, right now, but he stays in his chair. Jim hazards a glance at his face before quickly looking down at the floor.

“I’m so-”

“Jim, do you even have a brain in that pretty head of yours?”

Bones is the one who gets the words out, and Jim’s getting really confused as to why Bones is calling his head pretty. He’s on the fence about whether or not it’s an insult. Briefly, he wonders if this is the start of Bones letting him down gently.

“It’s okay, I get it, you don’t have to read me the riot act,” Jim says, making to get up. “I’ll crash somewhere else for the night, and in the morning I’ll request a ch-”

Bones’ hand shoots out, catching Jim’s wrist so fast there’s a slapping sound, and he stares him directly in the eyes, his gaze so intense it hurts to look at but it would hurt even more to look away. His lips twitch like he’s going to say something, again, but he purses them, tugs at Jim’s hand. Purses them again.

Pulls Jim closer and presses them to his.

Jim yanks his hand out of Bones’ grip, taking a good two steps back. His lips are kind of tingly, and he can almost feel his face turning pink.

“Why… Why’d you do that?” he asks, each word coming out measuredly. But Bones doesn’t seem to balk at all; if anything, he’s starting to get that stern look on his face like earlier. He doesn’t reach for Jim’s wrist again, but his hand rests on the back of Jim’s desk chair, not gripping it or anything, just steady. Steady like Bones.

“Because I do too,” Bones replies, and even though he’s still staring straight at Jim, it doesn’t feel so much like his eyes are boring holes in his head.

“You what too- oh.”

Bones smiles. “Yeah,” he says, reaching out, and this time Jim slips his hand into Bones’ and lets their fingers fill in the gaps. “‘Oh.’”

When they kiss again, Jim is the one who initiates it, leaning forward with his knee on the seat of his chair, his free hand coming up to cup Bones’ cheek. When they part, they keep their faces close, pink-faced and smiling dopey smiles.

“Been wanting to kiss you,” Bones admits quietly, his voice soft and low. “For months now. Then when we… the feeling just got stronger.”

“Yeah.”

“Been wanting to tell you.”

That’s a feeling Jim has known well for weeks now. The tightening feeling in his chest whenever he sees Bones, the feeling that the words are just there on the tip of his tongue and the next time he opens his mouth they’ll just come tumbling out in whatever order before he can stop them, the constant thought during every conversation that he could just come out with it and then he would have said it, it would be out in the open between them. He’s wanted to tell Bones, too, and now he has.

“Feels good,” Jim breathes, leaning in for another kiss and feeling Bones’ lips curl into a smile against his.

“Coulda said something earlier and then we’d have already been on a few dates by now,” Bones points out. Jim pokes him in the chest.

“By that logic, so could you.”

Bones rolls his eyes and mumbles something about cornfed hicks, but then he’s wrapping his arms around Jim, pulling him close and then getting out of his chair to pull him closer.

 

 

They don’t end up dissolving their seemingly short-lived friends-with-benefits arrangement; “The benefit is that you get to date me,” Jim had joked before Bones had smacked him lightly in the back of the head. What’s the point, if they’re dating and they’ve done the do once already? Jim likes laying on his back on Bones’ decidedly neater bed, his boyfriend-- Bones, his boyfriend-- leaning over him, Jim’s legs around his waist like a human fanny pack. He laughs a little at the thought, and Bones tries to look annoyed, but Jim knows he’s not, not really. Bones leans down, kisses Jim’s cheek, then the corner of his mouth. Plucks at the neck of his shirt.

“Can I…?”

Jim nods and raises his arms to let Bones remove his shirt and toss it onto the pile of whatever that’s on Jim’s bed. He nudges his fingertips under the hem of Bones’ shirt, and they undress each other, smearing lines of kisses over every newly exposed inch of skin. Bones is beautiful, long fingers and strong, broad shoulders and just a bit of a belly that creases when he bends at the waist. He’s glad that Gaila has Uhura and that he has Bones, because he can’t imagine going through life having missed out on this.

“You’re thinkin’ about somethin’,” Bones observes, his words a full-blown (ha, “blown”) drawl when he’s all turned on and stuff.

“What? Me, thinking?”

Bones raises an eyebrow, and Jim’s expression softens.

“Just thinking about how nice it is that Gaila and Uhura worked out, and that you and I worked out,” he answers. “It’s… I’m happy. For all of us.”

Bones gives him a slower kiss, keeping their foreheads together even after it breaks. Then he gives him another.

“So ‘m I,” he agrees, going in for a third kiss. Balancing more of his weight on his arms, he leans more over Jim and kisses a trail along his jaw, then down his neck, then over his chest and lower, Jim curling his fingers into Bones’ dark hair. He closes his eyes and sighs, arching his back the lower Bones goes.

“Hey,” he says suddenly, grinning when Bones looks up. “Thrusters on full.”

He wiggles his hips.

Bones smacks him in the shoulder.

**Author's Note:**

> skjdhgfjk i rlly hope this turned out okay! if u want to u can visit me in mckirk hell at [ocdjimkirk](http://ocdjimkirk.tumblr.com).


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